


The Lazy River

by NoeticEdda



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Lifeguards, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Lifeguard Kylo Ren, Lifeguards, No Pregnancy, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Romance, Smut, Spies & Secret Agents, Spy Stuff, Summer, Vaginal Sex, Virginia, Washington D.C., Waterpark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:21:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25219195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoeticEdda/pseuds/NoeticEdda
Summary: Rey wants to relax during the summer between her undergrad and post-grad. She decides to spend some time at a local waterpark, and notices one of the lifeguards. He's... hard to ignore.Why would a man built likehimbe overseeing the intentionally-dull Lazy River at a waterpark in suburban Virginia? Rey has many thoughts. And words. Lots and lots of words.Well anyway, at least she would never fall asleep while floating in the Lazy River and have an explicit dream about this mystery man! Surely not! Nope. Definitely probably not.......OOP[a fluffy, light-hearted, romantic summertime story with a top secret twist]
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Poe Dameron/Finn, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 99
Kudos: 153
Collections: Summer Fic Exchange 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ElleRen31](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElleRen31/gifts).



> Thanks to ElleRen31 for this summery waterpark prompt!
> 
> And thanks to [no_big_deal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/no_big_deal/pseuds/no_big_deal) and [HarpiaHarpyja](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarpiaHarpyja/pseuds/HarpiaHarpyja) for the great betas!

* * *

Sure, it was mainly for kids.

Yes, they annoyed the hell out of her . . . most of the time. 

But there was this lifeguard.

_The_ lifeguard. 

Possibly the first and only man ever to exist.

* * *

Shake shake, slurp—the satisfying sound of her nearly finished _iced coffee, extra cream_ meant only one thing: she was on her way to grab an inflatable chaise of some yet-to-be-determined shape and float in a fake river to her heart’s content. 

But first, time to recycle. _No drinks allowed._ Rey thought it was positively hideous to toss her plastic cup into the blue bin without first emptying its quickly melting ice cubes. So, she hopped behind the shade of a big bougainvillea, tipped the clear plastic lid open, and shook the cubes out onto the mulch behind a low retaining wall before dropping the cup into the recycling bin. 

There. Her conscience was clear—no one emptying the bins at night was going to get a big wet surprise. At least, not on her account.

For doing a good deed, however small, she sure looked suspicious. But no one saw. She was incredibly stealthy. Maybe she should join the CIA. Definitely. Or MI-6. Absolutely. Why not? You only live twice.

Rey was determined to squeeze every last drop out of the most mindless, indulgent, summery thing she could think of within ten minutes’ drive of her apartment: the local waterpark.

She had spent the end of the school year scrambling to get her senior thesis done and finally peace out of her undergrad work. Now, she had a precious couple months of summer to relax before heading off to the UK for a quick visit home, then right back to Washington, D.C., to start her post-grad program in linguistics. 

Thank the stars for her shiny new noise-cancelling headphones. The on-ear, wireless kind she saw posh people wearing as she walked straight through the Business Class cabin? Yeah, those. And now, they came in waterproof. Rey splurged on hers with a bit of graduation money. (Thanks, Auntie Maz!) 

There was no question what color she wanted: lemon yellow.

She picked up a bright pink lounging tube and headed into the Lazy River. Two hours floating around the loop and she was blissed out with the eternally bumpable beats of Missy Elliott in her ears, drowning out yelling kids and exasperated parents. It was just her and the gentle current, feet dangling in the water, _put my thing down flip it and reverse it,_ just Rey and Missy in the sunshine. A perfectly ordinary, lovely summer day, not a care in the w—well, _hello_ . . . 

Out of the corner of her eye, Rey saw the lifeguard shift handoff. 

A sunny, pretty blonde with her hair in two side-buns flashed a _hang loose_ to another, much larger person as she walked away from the lifeguard tower. Well, not really a tower; more like a rinky-dink outpost. And it was utterly dwarfed by the approaching man. He was built like one of the vending machines, except taller. Wider. Better-looking, better selection of goodies. Better hair. No, his hair was not better than the vending machines (heaven forbid they had hair), but better than . . . just, men? In general?

_Who_ was _that_?

Before she knew it, the slow current of the river pulled Rey around the bend and the tower (man?) was out of sight, despite the Olympic-level athleticism of her newfound neck-craning ability. What sport, she couldn’t say. Rubbernecking? No, that was some American thing. 

Right. Stay focused. Make a mental note, what time was it? 4pm. Shift change. Large man, dark hair, shiny sunglasses, big—er, _patrician_ —nose, tits to die for . . . Hang on, just another fifteen-minute loop in the water and she’d get another glimpse. More detail. Good.

She could use the intermission, anyway, to adjust her braided bun; fluffing loose just the right amount of soft brunette hair to look like she was an international woman of mystery. Technically, she _was_ international, but the mystery part? Oddly, so very strangely, for no discernible reason, she seemed to ooze the kind of mystery she never intended. Her British accent got her a bit of attention at bars in the area, yes; but once she really started getting going about her interests, men seemed . . . confused. Bewildered, perhaps intimidated. Oh well, their loss.

Fifteen minutes felt like an hour. When she rounded the gentle bend, he was gone. _Sunny_ was back.

Shift . . . break? All right. She had plenty of time. She’d float the loop again.

And again.

And before she knew it, eight o’clock rolled around. Closing time. No vending machine-sized man in sight.

_Damn_.

Well, as Uncle Yoda would say, _Always in motion is the future_. 

Her future was clear: the motion of the Lazy River. 

Tomorrow. 4pm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to [Missy Elliott's Work It](https://youtu.be/cjIvu7e6Wq8) on youtube
> 
> thanks for reading! come say hi on twitter [@NoeticEdda](https://twitter.com/NoeticEdda)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey continues to visit the waterpark, keeping her eyes peeled for a certain large lifeguard.

Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow kept happening, but 4pm never yielded a single measly sighting of the lifeguard to end all lifeguards. 

Three days. She was beginning to think he had been some sort of hallucination. Maybe it was the heat. Maybe the caffeine. Did she have sunstroke? Was sunstroke even a thing? Must get a higher SPF. These days, 50 might not cut it.

On Friday, she completed her little ritual again. Iced coffee, unnecessarily sneaky ice cube removal, bless that soil, bless that bougainvillea, inflatable chaise into the water, headphones on, eyes on the lookout every time she passed the outpost. Er, lifeguard tower. Whatever, it had about three steps of a staircase and a sign— _Staff Only_ —written in Marks-a-Lot. Hardly a prestigious posting for Vending Machine.

Come to think of it, what would a strong, fit man like Vending be doing watching over the Lazy River, of all places? He could probably pull redwoods out of parched earth. Construct a space station. Something befitting of a creature his size. 

Perhaps he wasn’t a lifeguard at all; perhaps it was just a favor he was doing for a friend. One quick fifteen-minute job babysitting the Lazy River, and he was back to his real life of building log cabins by hand or whatever it was men like him did.

Rey adjusted her swimsuit straps, pulling them down to give her tan line a break—she wore a ruched metallic gray one-piece today, another gift from Auntie Maz; “ _you look good in grey_ ;” such an odd opinion but okay, Maz—and when she looked up, there he was. 

Sitting in that too-small chair that needed a paint job. 

He was looking at her, with her straps down around her shoulders.

Well, his general gaze was pointed in her direction. Those mirror-finish Ray-Bans weren’t exactly a clear view to his eyes, but who needed details? 

Rey, that’s who. For science.

Starting with the shorts. They were at the perfect length, and just the right fit where she could almost make out— _oh my_. Well, his thighs were thick and grabbable. Hard abs without being overkill. They were au naturel; no roid rage for this wholesome boy. Large . . . feet. A slight tan on fair skin, bit pink on the nose; seemed to have a smattering of moles. Better be wearing SPF 70. His hair was a deep sable, wavy, a bit unruly . . .

Some kid splashed Rey. How dare they steal her attention from such an assignment? She started a bit, leaning up in her chaise, and felt the neckline of her swimsuit fall a bit lower with the straps hanging around her arms. She shot a look back at Vending Machine, and he was staring directly at her—she was sure of it—but he quickly turned away. Nobody was floating in the section of water he seemed to be studying so carefully now. 

She was swept round the corner and back again. 

Yep, still there. Looking . . . elsewhere.

Round and around again.

He was still at his post. So he must be an employee after all. 

But nothing exciting had happened for six rotations. And she was feeling so thirsty. So she stood, dragged her lounger out of the water and deposited it to the side, then headed toward the _actual_ vending machines. The ones with popsicles and nuts and other refreshments. Her locker was nearby, so she grabbed a couple bucks and browsed the selections after taking a few swigs of water from the drinking fountain.

Piña Colada ice pop . . . no, not in the mood for coconut. Perhaps a Big Stick? So much cheaper at Costco. Then she spotted just the right treat. A classic. She pressed B-8 for an orange creamsicle. 

Rey spied a bench next to a planter filled with monstera philodendron and birds of paradise, and bit into the popsicle as she walked to the bench, dropping a couple of little icy orange chunks onto the cement pathway. As she looked down at her miniature mess, she saw a shadow draw near, then two large feet, and thick, muscular, long legs . . . _Vending Machine_ , right in front of her.

“There’s no eating here.”

Oh, wonderful.

“Shorraay—’ang on, frrozzen—”

“When you bite directly into a popsicle, that’s what happens.” 

She managed to swallow the rest of the bite, and almost choked from the very cold, still very solid piece of orange creamsicle sliding down her esophagus. _Melt, melt you bastard, melt please._

Her mouth still felt frozen, but she hoped for the best.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize—”

“Too close to the water. There’s a bench over there where you can . . . do whatever it is you’re doing.” 

Oh, so he was friendly, too!

“Er, right. Sorry. Won’t happen again. I didn’t catch your . . .”

“You dropped some more.”

“What? Wh—”

“There, on your . . .” He pointed.

Oh.

There were little orange drips on her swimsuit, and she realized she had never pulled up her straps. A couple of the drops were at the very top of her breasts, melting as they slid down behind the bodice of her suit.

“Sorry. I mean thanks. I mean, no problem. I—have you been lifeguarding long?” Lifeguarding. Was possibly not a word. This wasn’t going well.

“So, any of those benches behind the line of palm trees, those are fine for eating.”

“I’ve got a big appetite, but I dunno about eating a whole bench.” _No_ , Rey. Why.

He didn’t respond; he just stared at her from behind the Ray-Bans.

She wished he wasn’t wearing sunglasses. If he was going to turn out to be standoffish and awful, she would’ve at least liked to get a look at his eyes. They were probably beautiful. Definitely evil, but probably beautiful.

“Right,” she said, deflated, “so those ones over there. Got it. Thanks.” 

He stood there for a minute, weirdly, then turned back toward his rinky-dink, rusted-out _'lifeguarding'_ tower. Rey walked to a bench behind the palms, slouched while she finished her creamsicle, and left for the day.

* * *

Another day, another dolorous, mopey circuit she’d jog around the apartment complex. Grumpy-jogging. This was what she’d dreamed of, all her life. She had arrived.

Why should an unpleasant, well-built but unpleasant, really _extremely_ well-built with great big arms and cute ears but seriously _very_ unpleasant waterpark lifeguard have Rey grumpy-jogging? She was about to go off to do interesting post-grad work and then possibly join the CIA or MI-6. Not really, but it was what she usually thought about when she jogged. More dramatic. Adventure ahead. Good motivation.

Now all she could think of was how stupid she must have seemed, dripping frozen orange corn syrup down her tits like some slovenly twenty-two year-old. That’s what she was, but Vending Machine didn’t need that kind of detail. (Yet.) He just needed to sit upon his odd perch, looking pretty, doing a job he seemed entirely unsuited for. Maybe he was in witness protection. Maybe _he_ was CIA. Maybe he was recruiting her (good move, CIA) and his cover was almost blown—she had him! Who was stupid now?

She switched playlists. A little Elias Rahbani could only do good things for her at this point.

By the end of her jog, Rey was so thoroughly enthused about becoming a glamorous but dedicated field agent in Beirut that she had all but forgotten about Vending. He was no one, he was nothing. Why should he impede her well-deserved relaxation? She was going to stick to her plan of luxuriating in a meandering, man-made river approximately three feet deep, listening to metal or Mozart or maybe a book on tape about a young woman who takes the mantle of James Bond and saves the world from an evil overlord in a mask.

Summer had just begun.

But first, shopping.

* * *

Living on a student’s budget could cramp anyone’s style, and Rey had busted her ass working full-time during all four years of school so that she’d have a little something to start out with, beyond the upcoming graduate stipend. She didn’t want to blow it all on hookers and drugs, but at least she could get a new swimsuit or two. 

So she came home with six. They were on sale! Two of them were on sale. But they were darling, and she felt hot wearing them, and she was off to the waterpark that same afternoon in a sandy, golden strapless suit with a cutout on one side. She liked how it reminded her of a sharkbite. So similar except for the bleeding to death part.

Iced coffee, feed the bougainvillea (her dead-drop; classic spy tradecraft). Keep an eye out for any foreign agents. They’d most likely be disguised as mums and dads, or even children. The _things_ the other intel agencies were doing these days; truly unscrupulous.

Inflatable chaise time: today she hit the jackpot. _The unicorn_. That’s right, the best, cutest one at the waterpark! Nothing could stop her now. She sauntered to the Lazy River like the pathway was her own personal catwalk, looking very elegant while holding a giant unicorn floatie larger than herself. 

Then, he was there. Walking next to her.

“When I spill on my trunks, I usually just wash them.” 

Oh fine, coming to taunt her, just peachy . . . _But he noticed her new swimsuit._

“Well, when I chat to people, I usually just say something friendly.”

He stopped walking for a split second, then matched her stride again. 

“Sorry, I didn’t think—”

“Yes, common problem with men.”

“—that it would come off mean. Just . . . teasing.” 

This time, Rey stopped. Maybe he wasn’t so evil after all. She needed to do more recon work on him, to be sure, but—

“I’m Kylo.” She liked the sound of his voice. Low, thick. Warm, actually.

“Rey.”

“Your new swimsuit’s missing a piece, hope you got a discount.” He smiled with one side of his mouth as he turned and stalked off to his lifeguard tower.

She stood there, dazed for a moment.

“I did,” she said to no one in particular.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to Elias Rahbani's groovy [Dance For Maria](https://youtu.be/zpoPY2YrOt8) on youtube.
> 
> thanks for reading! come say hi on twitter [@NoeticEdda](https://twitter.com/NoeticEdda)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey's curiosity is piqued. She may get a bit drowsy, however, at the waterpark. An emergency seems to yield a little more information-- and even more mystery. Her good friend Finn lends an ear, and a little bite of his dinner, too.

Google seemed utterly bamboozled by the query; it proved rather useless. Nobody was named Kylo; not just in the tri-state area, but in the country. It wasn’t even a name. 

She didn’t see him for what felt like thousands of years. Of course, it was just two days. Then, amidst the flurry of her daily customs, he appeared in her life again.

Rey was completing her dead-drop, like every other day. She was shielded by an explosion of magenta leaves from the bougainvillea, but through her tactical position, she spotted Kylo. He was no more than forty feet away. Hulking, brooding somehow; this time, bafflingly, wearing a suit—a navy blue affair, well-tailored and flattering to his . . . form. He was walking up to the staff-only hut that they called an office. It was the largest building at the park, though. She imagined they had their own showers inside, and perhaps a storage room for all the inflatable floaties and rent-a-noodles and chaise longues. 

He turned around just before opening the door, took off his shiny sunglasses, and looked her right in the eye through the bougainvillea. His face was a bit pink and he stopped in the middle of loosening his tie. Then, without a word, without so much as a twitch of his lip to acknowledge her, he slipped a key card into the lock and the door swung open. He disappeared into the staff hut.

His eyes really _were_ beautiful.

Distracted, she missed the planter and dropped the ice cubes onto her foot.

* * *

Three loops later on the Lazy River, and there was another sighting.

He was back on his rickety lifeguard perch, out of his business suit and in his red trunks and reflective Ray-Bans, with a smear of that opaque neon 1980s sunblock Australians always seemed to wear in the movies. Just one swipe. Must’ve turned into a bad burn for him to be wearing a lime green stripe on the bridge of his nose.

Still hot. No, not Kylo. Well, yes Kylo, but Rey was merely thinking about the weather. It was terribly, stiflingly hot and humid. Kylo’s chest had already beaded up with sweat within the first hour of Rey’s visit to the waterpark, and the man was sitting still the whole time. The way he sat was rather open-legged, she imagined to minimize ball sweat in such oppressive heat. His trunks unfortunately obscured any further investigation of this theory.

Rey was exhausted today, after staying up late again last night googling a few things:

Kylo waterpark  
Kylo lifeguard  
Kylo tall  
Kylo Washington D.C.  
Kylo Maryland  
Kylo Virginia  
Kylo tri-state area  
Tall dark hair moles Washington D.C.  
Kylo tall dark hair moles Washington D.C.  
Dermatologist affordable Washington D.C.  
Vending machine height  
Vending machine distributors  
History of vending machines  
Orange creamsicle calories  
Orange Julius [google suggestion: original location]  
Julius Caesar hot  
Hot Roman emperors  
Roman hot [google suggestion: holiday]  
Gregory Peck young hot Roman Holiday

She’d had a restless night of sleep after such extensive research, and felt particularly dozy today from the heat. There were fewer people at the park on Mondays, and Rey’s Roy Ayers playlist ended. Nothing was coming through the headphones—it was a nice rest from noise. Her eyes went a bit heavy underneath her sunglasses and she began to drift off . . . 

_She was standing behind the bougainvillea when Kylo walked up to her, serious and determined. His suit was disheveled; tie gone, blazer undone; and he didn’t say a word. He just scooped her up in both arms and marched her off to the Lazy River, setting her down along its sloped banks so her legs were in the water but she was leaning back resting her elbows on the grass. He walked into the water, ruining those expensive Italian leather shoes, and kneeled down in front of her, crouching forward. Without so much as an opening kiss, he pulled off her white bikini bottoms and buried his nose between her legs. His pants were soaked along with the elbows of his blazer as he licked her cunt, teasing just once or twice before going full sex god and sucking her clit until she couldn’t remember her—_

“MA’AM?”

A young woman startled Rey out of . . . oh, blast, it was only a dream. 

The woman was Sunny with the hair-buns; the blonde lifeguard. She couldn’t be any younger than Rey; what was the _ma’am_ for?

“Are you all right? You were . . . whimpering. Pretty loud. Any health issues, breathing issues?” She was standing over Rey, restraining the inflatable chaise with her strong lifeguard legs against the slow current of the Lazy River. 

Rey looked quickly to check if Kylo was around. He was not. The river was almost empty. Thank the stars for small mercies.

“Er, sorry. I’m fine. Just ah, singing along to my playlist,” she said, giving a fake smile and awkwardly tapping her yellow headphones. “ _Everybody Loves the Sunshine_ , classic summer jam.” She fought the familiar urge to cringe at herself.

“ . . . Singing? Singing. O . . . kay. You sounded . . . distressed. Sorry about that. Enjoy your day.” Sunny-buns released Rey’s chaise and off she floated into the current again, around the bend, heart racing and liquid heat receding from a dangerously high tide in her belly. 

* * *

After getting caught “singing,” Rey figured that was quite enough waterparking for one day. She was near the lockers, pulling a pretty linen tunic over her head, which served as a light coverup for the end of each day, wiggling a little to get it to fall past her hips, hitting just underneath her bum. And there he was, leaning against the supply closet door and watching her. Back in his suit. 

_Not the suit again._

They locked eyes, and he suddenly looked like a deer in headlights. She would know—after a very unfortunate incident last summer, how could she forget? So many deer in Virginia. But Kylo was a brave buck, apparently, because he shook off his look of surprise and started walking her way. All six feet plus of liquid sex appeal, poured into a navy suit and a crisp white shirt. She remembered what that shirt looked like soaking wet, just a little while ago . . . 

How was she supposed to talk to him after . . . _that_ dream?

 _Just be cool._

“Leaving earlier than usual today?” . . . He had paid attention to her floating schedule?

“Y—yes, I have to be . . . somewhere. Very important. Appointment-meeting, meetup. Can’t be late.” Oh no, _oh no_. She was about to say something idiotic, she could practically taste it.

A loud shriek saved Rey from herself, although it sounded so panicked that both their heads snapped around and they ran toward a screaming woman crouched in the grass.

“Mon fils, aidez-moi, s’il vous plaît, vite, aidez-moi, aidez-moi! Mon fils! _Help, please_!”

Kylo looked alert and serious as he bellowed, “Does anybody speak French?”

Rey did.

“Quel est le problème— _oh dear_.” The woman’s young son was lying on the grassy riverbank, looking like he was choking, but his face was starting to puff up. A half-eaten candy bar lay near his hand, sticking out of its wrapper. He was going into anaphylactic shock.

“Mon fils, il a une allergie à la noix de coco—”

“He has a coco—” Rey began to translate but Kylo cut her off.

“Coconut allergy. Got that much.” He said it while he was already sprinting away, bolting back to the staff hut and emerging at light speed to administer an epi-pen. Rey gave the woman calm reassurances until the paramedics arrived. The boy seemed to stabilize while being wheeled into the ambulance, and the small crowd of worried onlookers that had gathered began to disperse.

The woman gave Rey a hug before heading into the ambulance with her son; _Merci, vous êtes une ange, merci, merci._

Rey was relieved that the boy would be all right.

And now she was standing with Kylo in the grass, quite apart from anybody else.

“We’re lucky you hadn’t left even earlier today." He was gracious, professional. "Thank you.”

“Of course, all I did was a bit of comforting, anyway.” She smiled. He paused and shifted on his feet, slipping his hands into his pockets underneath his suit jacket before speaking again.

“Are you from France? Did you study French in school?”

“Majored in it. French and Arabic. Just graduated, actually.” With honors. 

“Arabic, huh? I speak a little Arabic myself.” 

“Really!” This was going better than Rey could’ve hoped for; nothing was scarier than chatting up this giant handsome vending machine after having an entirely explicit dream about him only an hour prior. Crisis seemed to bring out the normal in Rey. She hoped she could keep it going. Definitely wouldn’t be able to, but _hope is like the sun_ , she thought. “Where did you pick up—”

His phone rang, and when he pulled it out of his pocket, his face, his entire demeanor, darkened. 

“Sorry. I have to—Thanks again.” And with that, he put the phone to his ear, speaking in a hushed tone as he made a beeline for the parking lot.

 _Pas de problème_.

* * *

“So then he was wearing, and I cannot stress this enough, a _suit_. At the waterpark. Like, a good one, Finn.”

“Like Tom Ford good? Or just Ted Baker good?”

“Okay, I dunno. Let’s split the difference. Tom Hardy.”

“Rey, that’s an actor. You know, from your country? The little island?”

“What island?”

“The one with the colonies—”

“Hmm. Never heard of it.”

They were going to town on a platter of kik alicha, gomen and doro wot at their favorite Ethiopian haunt. Rey had been relaying the whole Kylo business to her best mate, Finn.

“Are you planning on eating that?” She was eyeing his egg. They always asked for a second hard-cooked egg in their doro wot so they could each have one, but Finn hadn’t touched his yet.

“Yeah I’m gonna—ughh, here.” He tore off a large piece of injera and folded it, doubling the spongy bread to use it as a buffer between his fingers and the sauce. He split the egg in two and reached across the table to feed it to Rey. 

She smiled and said, with her mouth full, “Love you too, dear friend.”

As they walked down the street after their meal, Rey related the rest of the odd details about Kylo; that she knew it wasn’t a real name, that he apparently spoke a bit of Arabic, and that she was certain he was CIA. Had to be. No other explanation for any of it. Nope.

“Rey, honey, you’re letting yourself get carried away. Again.”

“I’m not—what do you mean _again_? I have never, in my life, done anything resembling getting carried away with anything, ever.”

He gave her _the look_. 

“There are a million explanations for the suit. Maybe he owns the park. Maybe he’s a real estate agent; times are tough, people moonlight. Anyway, what would a CIA guy want with a lifeguarding gig at a waterpark in Reston?” There, he had her stumped.

They reached the spot where Finn’s car was parked. 

He fished for the keys in his pocket. “Sure you don’t want me to drop you off at your car? It’s like ten blocks away and this humidity’s a bitch . . .”

“No I’m fine. Could use a bit of walking after all that food. Thanks, though. Give Poe a kiss from me.”

“Will do. He’ll meet us next week. Promised he wouldn’t miss our last dinner before you leave town.”

He gave her a friendly peck on the cheek and one of those hearty Finn-hugs that she loved, then hopped in his car and drove off.

Rey walked along the avenue, thinking back to the dream she had about Kylo. When she was telling Finn earlier about the hot, mysterious lifeguard with an expensive-looking suit, she had left that part out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to Everybody Loves the Sunshine from Roy Ayers: [here](https://youtu.be/SSBWiFGzsyU)
> 
> a spotify playlist for the fic: [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5wdV6pORFSZ9V8txlAqdRQ?si=v9N-36JuTTmphfMEnJhNIw)
> 
> thanks for reading! come say hi on twitter [@NoeticEdda](https://twitter.com/NoeticEdda)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...What is going _on???_
> 
> [Bit shorter chapter but hopefully the next update will make up for it. ;) Thanks for reading.]

Today’s dead-drop nearly made Rey’s heart stop. There was someone waiting at the bougainvillea. The suit-wearing, Arabic-speaking vending machine himself.

 _What_ was he doing at her dead-drop? She couldn’t face him. Not after that dream she had yesterday. It had stuck with her all day . . . and all night. 

Her apartment had air conditioning; a cheap, failing window unit. It was a necessity in the humid Virginia summers, but she had nonetheless been hot and bothered. Her mind was full of Kylo, soaked through in a suit eating her out, on repeat, until she did something about it. With her fingers. 

The problem was, it was like a song stuck on loop. The thought of him pulling her white bikini bottoms off and throwing them aside, serious and single-minded. The thought of his blazer pooling around him, side vents open as the fabric floated in the water. The thought of his sopping wet collared shirt stuck to that broad, solid chest; nipples hard and poking outward from underneath the drenched white fabric as he came up for air to fondle her breasts, lick his lips, dive back in . . . The image was like a broken record. She had to adjust the needle more than once. 

She did not sleep well.

So today, after arriving on the later side and flustered by the sight of Kylo loitering precisely at her usual dead-drop, Rey took a different route to the Lazy River entrance. 

The paths wound around a maze full of planters loaded with succulents and tropicals, tall banana trees and palms; colorful hiding places for benches and shady green lanes for getting out of the heat. She was just about to turn the corner when a figure appeared out of nowhere, in a secluded little offshoot from the pathway. 

_Kylo_.

“Skipped your dead-drop today?”

Rey’s heart missed a beat; her brain did a double-take: He called it her dead-drop. Something was fishy. _A spy’s intuition kicks in._

“Oh, hello.” _Act natural, act natural_. “Just taking the scenic route, I mean taking a shady lane in the heat, you know the summer heat. Summer. So . . . summery, humid? It’s been awful lately, do you have air conditioning?” She would have to move to Mars now.

“I . . . I do have A/C, yes.” His eyes seemed to travel at a fairly slow pace, away from her face and down her body and was he checking her out? 

She wore her white bikini today. No particular reason. It made her modest SPF 50 tan seem much darker, and her freckles and flushed cheeks were on full display . . . _When did he step so close?_

“That’s good,” _keep it moving, keep it moving_ , “n—need it here in the tri-state, right? This area? You live here, I mean, nearby. You live nearby?” The Germans must have a word for when you grimace on the _inside_.

“I—yes, sort of. Georgetown.”

Georgetown. Posh.

Was he moving even closer? He was back in his Baywatch-red lifeguard shorts. His bare chest was at eye-height for Rey and it was all she could do not to reach out and grab one of his perfect pectorals, then swoon like a Regency lady upon hearing she had a new letter today from Prince Charmington of Waterford Park.

She was fine, she was calm, this was fine.

“You . . . it’s Kylo, right? You called it a dead-drop? What ever could you mean by such a thing?” Why, _why_ was she like this?

“Just a joke. So many spies in the area. It means—”

“Oh, I know what it means. Actually. When you’re leaving something for your handler. I erm, just didn’t get the joke. I mean, I got it, but I didn’t really . . . get why . . .” He was an inch away from her, leaning down just slightly to make the most intense eye contact humans had ever made. She could feel the heat coming off of his body.

“Do you feel like maybe—” His walkie talkie interrupted him loudly. Rey jumped a little, recognizing the voice of Sunny with the buns.

“Kay for Kylo, do you copy? We have a . . . situation, over and out.” _A situation?_

His posture immediately stiffened, and he had the walkie talkie to his mouth in no time.

"Go for Kylo, Roger that. On my way, over and out.” He shot Rey an apologetic look for a split second before saying, “Sorry, catch you later, Rey.” Then he ran down the path, using the quickest way out of the tropical maze.

He had remembered her name. 

* * *

An hour later, he was still nowhere in sight. She was lounging in the Lazy River on a giant banana today. Rey had skipped her headphones, just to keep all her senses available for . . . anything that might happen. What if there was a nuclear attack, what if someone needed the help of an Urdu translator (she didn't know Urdu— _yet_ ); what if Kylo came to talk to her about dead-drops again? Lots of things were possible, frankly. _He had remembered her name._

The piped-in music wasn’t half bad, anyway. Gal Costa was a favorite of Rey’s; she must remember to add _Baby_ to the summer playlist. The Lazy River itself was a _piscina_ of sorts, she figured. 

She was exhausted again from her activities the night before, but she was _not_ going to fall asleep today. Not after the “singing” incident. She could slip into a dangerously deep sleep; who knows what sort of trouble she’d get herself into this time? No, absolutely not, she thought, while she yawned and the sun beat down on her forehead. She was just going to close her eyes for one moment. Just to rest them . . . 

_They were in the staff-only building, in a large storage room. He had her backed up against a waist-high mountain of freshly folded towels next to the wall. They were surrounded by every inflatable chaise imaginable, flattened out in neat stacks. He was hovering over her, his navy blazer crumpled on the floor. She was unbuttoning his white shirt, then his trousers, while he pulled down her bikini bottom and tugged at the triangle top. Once his erection was freed, he abruptly turned her around; swiftly, decisively; but he was gentle as he bent her over the stack of towels._

Yes _._

_He leaned down to move her hair out of her eyes as she was turned to one side, whispering something before kissing the edge of her ear with soft lips._

Yes, now _._

_She arched her back a bit, to help him find his way, and she had just begun to feel the tip of his cock against her entrance, when—_

She was drowning. Thrashing wildly, splashing; somehow she must’ve floated and fallen out of her banana, turned upside down into a deep pool, only . . . there was no deep pool, and she was at the waterpark, and—

A pair of steady, muscular arms wrested her out of this non-danger, pulling her to his torso and carrying her to the bank of the Lazy River. _Kylo_.

She was disoriented and coughing up water like a fool. She’d be fine—but before she knew it, he had her on her back, administering what was ostensibly CPR, but not the way she had learned it.

“ _Rey_.” He hovered over her, holding her chin as if he were going to breathe into her mouth. Instead, he looked at her with needful, honey-colored eyes and let his lips ghost along hers. Instinctively, impulsively, she kissed him, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from this giant, mysterious vending machine attempting to save her from the threat of a three-foot-deep river.

He kissed her back, with a bit more force. The air around them seemed to change, still and strange; all ambient noise went quiet and the only thing Rey perceived was him, was _them._ Soon, though, the handful of people remaining at the park were approaching to see what all the commotion could possibly be about. Kylo pulled away and sat back, panting. It couldn’t have been from any exertion.

There were a couple of concerned mutterings from the mums, a few quiet chuckles, a few louder, sloppier laughs from some teenage boys . . . and Sunny Two-Buns showed up with a shit-eating grin on her face. 

“Singing again, ma’am?” Rey narrowed her eyes, sitting up and turning to look at the potentially hostile blonde, but there was only mirth and goodwill in her expression, so Rey gave her a pass. _A future spy’s instincts are everything_.

When she looked over to Kylo again, he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to Gal Costa's [Baby](https://youtu.be/7ey65touQaY) on youtube. 
> 
> Piscina means pool in Portuguese and Spanish. "La piscine" is the French version.
> 
> Listen to the spotify playlist for this fic: [The Lazy River](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5wdV6pORFSZ9V8txlAqdRQ?si=ctZV86JGQGimhldSgTviqQ)
> 
> \---thanks for reading! come say hi on twitter [@NoeticEdda](https://twitter.com/NoeticEdda)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened, when Kylo disappeared after Rey's near-non-drowning? This one's a bit more NSFW. :smirk:

The waterpark was closed. The safety lights were on low and dusk had set in, casting a dim blue glow over the Lazy River and the lush, tropical planters. Star jasmine and tuberose released their blousy scents into the air. The only two people who remained at the park were Rey and Kylo. 

Except he didn’t know it.

Rey was determined to learn why he’d shown up in a dashing suit, only to moonlight as a lifeguard at the most undemanding gig she could imagine. 

There was no record of anyone named Kylo, ever. Not in the world and not in any language was it even a nickname, much less a real name. If there was one thing Rey knew, it was languages. The name Kylo was seemingly from outer space. He was always disappearing, too. Interrupted by mysterious calls during their encounters, and now vanishing after her little emergency earlier in the day. _After kissing her._

Soon, she would know all his secrets. Or at the very least, embarrass herself so terribly that he’d ban her from the waterpark and she’d have to go back to grumpy-jogging. 

Rey didn’t want that. She wanted _him_. 

She had hidden near the showers first, while people were leaving, before any attendants came to tidy them up. Then, she moved on to the maze of tropical plants. The sun was setting, and the lights of the pathway weren’t much to see by. Still, she knew every curve and every turnoff by now, and evaded two other lifeguards, plus security. Finally, she slinked around the perimeter of the entire waterpark just to make sure they were really alone.

Small kink in the plan, though. Nothing. Miniature, minor: she didn’t know exactly where he _was_ , _technically_ . . . Finding Kylo would put her spy skills to the test. Rey didn’t need GCHQ to tell her the old maxim: _do, or do not; there is no try_. 

Instead of poking around and potentially missing him one way or another, she resolved to wait at her dead-drop, crouching so he wouldn’t see her when he walked past the bougainvillea on his way to the parking lot when he left for the day. Crouching was an essential skill for spies, in fact. The next step, of course, would be to follow him. Totally normal behavior. She didn’t quite have that part all sorted yet, but she figured it involved . . . not turning on her headlights? Good thing the Prius ran so quiet.

* * *

Everything was proceeding as she had foreseen it. She heard the office door click open, then shut, then the electronic key-card lock reset itself. The sound of a chain link fence being dragged across the concrete made her hair stand up straight, but she was stoic. It was not unlike stalking big game, she imagined. Horrible business, hunting creatures like that. But tracking them safely, just to admire their beauty in the wild? She had always dreamt of going on safari since she was a little girl. Tonight, Kylo was the lion and she was . . . the lady from Born Free? No no, she’d think of something better later.

As her thoughts ran away from her (for the very first time in her life!) she realized that she never heard any footsteps coming out of the office, or dragging the chain link fence, or walking out past the bougainvillea to the parking lot. The only sounds were the faint croons of D’Angelo from the piped in music. Perhaps someone forgot to turn it off.

She peeked around the bright pink leaves just a tiny bit. 

Kylo was nowhere to be found.

Creeping out a little more, she looked around to the other side of the planter. Nothing.

She made her way all around the tropical landscaping near the entrance to the park, heart thumping but increasingly aware that she was going to fail; he had already left when she was dreaming of safari, she had ruined everything, he— 

“We’re closed, Rey.” 

Oh _stars_ , oh _bloody hell_ , he was standing behind her. She turned, slowly. 

“Hello, there!” Whyyy. Was she _like this_.

“Aheh. Hi.” He looked amused. Sounded good-natured. Seems she wasn't about to be banned for life after all. 

And he stepped so close that her breath hitched. 

“I just wanted—” she began to explain, and was about to do what she always did: trip all over her words like a fool. “I was just waiting to say thank you, for saving me. From drowning. Well, from not drowning. Earlier. And . . .” Oh, blast it all to hell. “You kissed me.”

“I thought you kissed me.” His mouth was so close, she could feel his breath on her brow. “I hoped.”

“Oh.” Very intelligent. Smart, she was. Brilliant. Going places. _He hoped._

“Maybe,” he said quietly, “ we kissed each other . . .?” His eyes were darting around her face. Waiting. 

“Maybe we did . . .” Without thinking, she reached up to move his hair behind his ear. With her fingers brushing through his black waves, he caught her wrist with his hand and gently rubbed his thumb up and down her pulsepoint. 

“There’s something about you,” he said, turning his mouth to the soft skin on the inside of her wrist and pressing a kiss there.

She shivered and tilted her lips up to his. He kept holding her wrist in the air as his mouth caught hers. For the shortest instant, their lips met softly. A quiet, almost pained noise escaped his throat. Then, it was all skin, all breath, hands and hips and hair tangling and their tongues met in a frenzy of experimentation.

“Can’t . . . stay here . . .” he murmured. Rey couldn't find the words for what she wanted; she only pulled away to look at him and hoped that he understood her eyes. He nodded. “I know a place.”

* * *

She’d never been on the inside island of the Lazy River. It had always looked like an impenetrably dense, lush plot of landscaping that had nothing more to it, and there were rope barriers indicating as such. But she was wrong.

Kylo led her across; they left their sandals on the outside banks and walked barefoot through the shallow water. He moved aside a few large palm leaves for Rey to duck under, then reached for her hand. She took it, allowing him to guide her through more foliage until they approached a small outbuilding obscured from the rest of the waterpark by tall banana trees. There was a hammock outside, tied between two palms, and a couple of folding chairs arranged around a lantern in the small clearing around the hut, all surrounded by stacks of mats resembling army surplus.

“Extra storage shed,” he said, without looking at the building. His eyes were on Rey as she drew nearer.

“You’re a lifeguard. At a waterpark. Who wears suits sometimes. And speaks Arabic.” She rested her hands on the thin white t-shirt covering his chest. The mixture of adrenaline and lust and night-blooming jasmine was almost too much, but she maintained an uncharacteristic composure.

“Yes I am,” he breathed, “and you’re a linguist, and you feed the bougainvillea ice cubes every day, and you stayed after closing to spy on me.” He wrapped his arms around her, just lightly without pushing for anything immediate.

“And you knew it.”

“And I knew it.” He brought one hand up into her hair, pulling gently until her head tilted back and her neck was exposed.

“And now you’re going to tell me your real name.” She was getting good at this.

He whispered underneath her ear and she felt his lips stretch into a smile. “Top secret.” He trailed soft kisses down her neck. “Can’t disclose.” She was near losing control, needing him, wanting him when she snuck in one more question.

“Because you’re a—”

“Spy?” He looked her square in the eye. 

She lunged forward and he staggered back, lips meeting and clothing coming off in a frenzy, stumbling onto a low stack of army surplus mats.

Her body sang at his touch; his fingers feathering her nipples into peaks, bringing his lips to suck one after the other and dragging his mouth down her abdomen, around her navel, his chin ghosting along the edges of her bikini bottoms. He pulled them off while her hands wove through his hair, as she remembered her dream, feeling a satisfied delight that this man had been looking at her the way she had been looking at him; wanted her the way she wanted him. Like an instinct. A force of nature. 

But this was no dream. His breath was on the inside of her thighs, his fingers tentatively nudging her open and finding the slick that had been pooling. The look of greed in his eyes almost ruined her, but then he sat back, brought his wet fingers to his mouth and sucked them, all at once, closing his eyes. A quiet moan escaped from low in his throat. She could have fainted from the sight if she weren’t so ready for him. _For this._

Rey did the most difficult sit-up of her life to reach for him, wrapping her hand around his cock. Big, like the rest of him. 

Suddenly, he wasn’t so patient. He leaned forward and her back hit the mat again as he caged her in, bracing his arms on either side of her, all shoulders and body heat hovering above her. But he stopped himself with a restraint she could only imagine was nearly killing him.

“Rey, we should—”

She placed a hand on his arm and asked quietly, “Spies get tested, you’re clean, then?”

“As a whistle.” Good.

“Me too. And on the pill.”

“Good,” he said, kissing her again, cradling her neck and head all in one large hand and she might combust if he didn’t start to fuck her, “but—”

“No no, no buts, absolutely not—”

“Come home with me. I wanna know you. Properly.”

“After.” 

“After what?” _Preposterous_. His breath was ragged; perhaps he was testing himself to see how long he could stand it. She certainly couldn’t, not anymore. She slid a hand between her legs and dipped her fingertips into her own arousal, then reached for his cock, getting the head wet and drawing a low moan from him. He settled himself against her entrance, then pulled a thumb around her clit and what felt like all the air from her lungs. “Fine. After.”

He sank into her, slower than she would’ve liked, but it had to be like this because of his size, the stretch; it ached in the best way. 

“Fuck,” was all she could muster.

“Yeah,” he huffed, nodding, before pulling back and thrusting in again, slow and steady, setting a pace. That pace lasted all of ten seconds.

Even with how hot he felt inside her, how much she wanted him, she would need more time that she feared they didn’t have. She began touching herself, trying to meet him right where he was—on a precipice. As if he sensed her dilemma, he pulled out, kissed her on the mouth and collarbone, and scooted down between her legs. His fingers drew a circle around her clit, then squeezed her thighs, then traveled up to roll her nipples as his tongue worked and worked her so that she was near throbbing when she finally begged him, between whimpers, “Please, come back. _Please_.”

He obliged, this time sliding in even easier, fucking her into the army surplus mat with an urgency piqued by exploring her sex. The speed, the angle of his cock hit just right, and his hand was on her neck and hot breath on her cheek when her climax shot through her. She writhed and clenched and fluttered and moaned until her toes tingled.

“God—you’re—an angel,” he whispered thickly.

His cheeks were puffing out and he held his breath intermittently, glancing away from her, presumably to delay his own finish; to prolong her orgasm. But she pulled his chin back to see his face as she whined through each aftershock of pleasure. 

With an instantly helpless look in his eyes, he stole a rough kiss, then breathed a hundred sweet, filthy words into her neck as he came so hard and so strong that it set off another cascade of pleasure inside her and she came again, with him, this time sharper and shorter, mind blanking out and seeing stars right as he finally stilled.

They were both panting. He rolled over onto his back next to her, but found her hand and held it, lifting it up now and then, twining their fingers together as they caught their breaths. 

She turned onto her side and nuzzled a bit at his jaw with a few kisses, still leaving enough space for them to breathe. She could tell he was overcome, dazed; and she had an inkling that he was looking forward to taking his time with her again, soon, from the starry-eyed way he looked at her.

“So, since I’m coming home with you, what’s your name?”

“Ben.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to D'Angelo's Brown Sugar on the Spotify playlist for this story: [The Lazy River](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5wdV6pORFSZ9V8txlAqdRQ?si=ctZV86JGQGimhldSgTviqQ)
> 
> \---thanks for reading! come say hi on twitter [@NoeticEdda](https://twitter.com/NoeticEdda)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Any mistakes are Google Translate's fault ;)

_Ben_ was in some kind of hurry to get her home with him. He hadn’t wasted much time in getting dressed, however sloppily, and leading Rey back across the Lazy River toward the parking lot, into his black sedan. Rey was intoxicated by the scent inside—so full of _him_. She wanted to soak it up, but her mind was a scrambled mess of excitement, curiosity, lust; and, inconveniently, fatigue. The way Ben drove, despite his eagerness to leave the park, was like velvet; his turns gentle and his stops timed perfectly. It would lull her to sleep if she didn’t speak up soon.

“So, the name. Kylo. The top secret one? What’s that about . . .” she yawned.

A small smile crept across his face. 

“Thought it sounded cool when I was a kid. Now I use it for . . . work.” 

“Ah. I see. Spy stuff.” Rey was still quite proud of herself for deducing that he was a spy. She wasn’t _completely_ positive, but he seemed to confirm it. Or did he? No, he must be. Unless he was just a talented liar, in which case she was in serious trouble. But all of this felt rather right to her. She trusted him, even though he had a cover name, even though he was apparently a spy of some sort. Of course, in the movies, spies were always getting people to trust them. But Rey had a good feeling about this.

“I’m just an analyst. But yeah, sure, spy stuff.”

He reached over and held her hand across the center divider, driving only with his left, but equally as smooth as before. Why would an analyst need a cover . . . Where did he learn to drive like this . . . She finally gave in to the fatigue and rested her head against the window. Just a nap. Just until they got to Georgetown.

 _They were on a boat, in the Adriatic, just off the coast of Split. She was sneaking him little bites of_ paški sir _dipped in honey while he deboned a freshly grilled mackerel and dressed it with lemon and mint. The sunset was golden; they were smiling, laughing; in love. He poured two glasses of_ malvazija _and they sat down to eat, toasting first. But after setting down his wine, he knelt down on the wooden deck. She was still holding her glass when he gently squeezed, then kissed, both her knees, covered by a white cotton voile sundress, and began a speech that ended in “Rey, my beautiful, darling Rey, will you . . .”_

“Rey,” he said quietly, trying to rouse her gently with a hand on her shoulder, “we’re here. My place.” 

She was only startled for an instant before he leaned across to kiss her on the temple. She yawned and gave him a contented smile before looking out at where they were parked. It was leafy and lit by old-timey street lamps, and before she noticed much else, Ben was already outside her door, opening it for her and extending his hand like a knight in a fairytale.

No, Rey didn't think she was in trouble after all. Not _that_ kind of trouble. 

* * *

The inside of his townhouse was lovely, really. Lots of books, nothing too ostentatious or alarming. The walls were painted an unassuming, drab colonial blue. There was a turntable in one corner with a small vinyl collection, containing Talking Heads and Sarah Vaughan and Stravinsky and The Roots. Rey approved. A few pieces of art, some very old-looking photographs, and a baby grand piano—mahogany, she thought. A home.

Ben had shown her into the living room while he procured something to drink from the kitchen. By now, however, Rey’s stomach was growling. And despite her desire to get ruined by this man over and over tonight, she had to eat something. So, when he returned with two glasses of red wine and a stack of takeout menus, she beamed.

“I’d like to take you out to dinner, but—” 

“They’d kick me out for not wearing pants.” They both chuckled, a bit nervous, but getting more and more comfortable. Rey only had her linen swim coverup over her bikini. No restaurant in D.C. would tolerate it. So the delivery options were narrowed down to Vietnamese, Italian, Lebanese, Ethiopian, and Indian. “Lebanese okay with you? Haven’t had kibbeh in ages.”

“Of course. I know the owner. You’ll love it.”

He didn’t bother asking her what she wanted; he proceeded to call the restaurant and order practically the entire menu—in perfect Arabic. _A little Arabic_ , she remembered him saying? He was fluent.

“That’s quite a good accent for someone who just knows _a bit_ . . .”

His eyes wouldn’t meet hers. “Immersion.” Such a short answer. Was he hiding something? “Food should arrive in forty minutes.” Plenty of time to suss out his secrets. She may be in the middle of the most romantic encounter of her life, after one of the best, if quickest fucks she’d ever had, but information-gathering was still of the utmost importance. 

They sipped their wine in silence for a few moments, on a handsome, lived-in leather couch the color of caramel. Rey’s proclivity for awkwardness seemed temporarily cured by . . . well, by the sex of course, but also by the strangely comfortable dynamic between them; the sense of calm, of rightness. But as each second ticked by, she worried that her mouth would betray her and she’d start in on something absolutely bizarre, such as:

“This couch feels like it’s seen its fair share of action.” Whoops.

“Ah, uh, hand-me-down. Yeah I guess it’s getting old.”

“Oh, I meant, no it’s lovely, and when I said action, I just meant—” He leaned in to kiss her. She had never felt happier to be interrupted.

Ben gingerly took her wine glass out of her hand and set it on the coffee table, along with his own. He didn’t have his hands on her, he didn’t start climbing over her; he just kissed her—long and sweet and _oh, stars_ had she met the perfect man? At a waterpark? 

She didn’t want to stop kissing him. Ever. It was just that she _had_ to know, “But, erm, the Arabic?” Couldn’t let it go. Not even when this perfect vending machine CIA lifeguard was kissing her like a silver screen romance.

He sighed softly, coming up for air, and had a twinkle in his sweet, golden-brown eyes.

“You’ll be studying linguistics, right? Your grad program—is that why you’re so curious?”

“How did you know th—One of your spy resources, I suppose?”

“Google is pretty handy,” he deadpanned. She pulled a face as he went on. “We use it a lot at work.”

“Well . . .” she was about to be weird, of course, but she was beginning to think that he liked her weird; liked her a lot, in fact. “That means you must’ve just looked me up today. Because you only learned my name—”

“Weeks ago.” His expression was so serious. 

“I don’t understand—”

“You first came on a Tuesday afternoon, nineteen days ago. I was—My heart skipped. When I saw you. I wanted to talk to you. Find out what was playing, under those headphones.”

She realized he’d been watching her much longer than she’d been watching him. _His heart skipped._

“Ben, if that’s even your real name . . . ” she attempted the joke, obviously. Like a tic. Had to. 

But he was gracious, and huffed, and said, “It is,” quietly as he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, and she believed him.

“ _Ben_ , if you first . . . _spied_ me weeks ago, why did you never introduce yourself?”

He shifted on the too-cushy couch. 

“I was going to, but I . . . I got derailed the day you were spilling that orange popsicle all over the place. Got off on the wrong foot. Felt bad.” She remembered the incident. Not her finest hour.

“After that day, you were quite nice, you know. You could’ve—”

“I tried to ask you out. Earlier today. Kay had—”

“—A _situation_ , I remember. Kay, is that the one with the,” she motioned to mimic the signature hairstyle of Sunny With The Side Buns.

“Hah. Yeah, Kaydel. Old school friend. We go way back.”

“And you both work at the waterpark? And the CIA?” She gave him a suspicious look, although it was mostly for show; by this point, she was more curious than anything.

“People in government usually just call it CIA. Without the ‘ _the’_. But I never said we worked there.” Spies were trained to be evasive, but he was giving even Rey’s runaway train of an imagination quite the track switch.

“Let me get this straight: you gave me a fake name, you moonlight as a lifeguard, but you work ‘ _at CIA’_ —”

“Do you believe in love at first sight?” His lips were near hers again, but all Rey could see were his eyes; earnest, soulful. Had she heard him wrong? Must’ve been the wine going to her head. Even so, she forgot whatever it was she was quizzing him about. 

All she could do was kiss him. His throat let out a low note when her lips captured his, then he was leaning in, pushing and pulling back gently, like he couldn’t decide whether to take it slow or to consume her all at once, only breaking away to say, breathy and low, “Ah, you do.”

Rey took his face in her hands and deepened the kiss, and he reached up to her forearm, tracing upward with his thumb. His hand gentled over her shoulder, resting on the nape of her neck, lacing his fingers up into her hair. She scooted closer, inviting him to place his other hand on her thigh, and one thing led to another: soon she was seated on his lap, facing him, making out with someone she had only just met but already fucked, who may have just told her that he was struck by Cupid’s arrow the very first moment he saw her . . . all before even having dinner together.

She couldn’t help but make a comment, pulling back to look him in the eye.

“This is all backwards, isn’t it?” 

His smile started at his eyes and slowly opened up his whole face, all dimples and crow’s feet and Rey was done for. Finito. Mad about him.

“I like backwards,” he said with a tilt of the chin.

“Do you like women whose imaginations run away with them and stalk you after work to unmask your secret life as a spy?” Somewhere in the middle of all those words, she began rubbing her thumbs in circles on his shoulders as she held them.

“I like you.”

“So, to clarify, you _do_ or _do not_ like chatty, perhaps wordy women who—”

“Just you.”

Rey sighed a little as he hugged her tight to him, holding her by the back and wrapping one of her legs around him as he stood. She hooked her other leg around his torso and had a sense that the food was going to arrive at just the wrong time.

“What about, _mmm_ , the delivery guy,” she said in between intensifying kisses.

“Good point.” He carried her into the kitchen and deposited her on the countertop, fishing around an everything-basket for a pen and paper. Then, he scribbled a few lines and handed the note to Rey while he took some twenty-dollar bills out of a drawer.

“Would the linguist care to check my work?” he asked drily, without looking up at her.

In perfect Arabic script, it read,

_يرجى ترك الطعام على الطاولة في الرواق. صديقي هنا. شكرا لك._

_Please leave the food on the table in the hallway. My friend is here._

Rey picked up the pen and changed the letters to modify the word “friend” to “girlfriend” before handing it back to him. He read it stone-faced as he paperclipped it to the cash. Without making eye contact, he left her on the countertop while he opened the door to the hall, placing the note and the money on a console table. When he returned, Rey felt a flash of panic; she had been silly; presumptuous. It was just a joke! Not really. Well, yes, really, but . . . she didn’t want it to be. 

His face betrayed nothing as he approached, getting as close as he could without touching her.

“I was just teasing, I honestly—”

“Shhh.” He slipped his hands underneath her tunic and began pulling at her bikini bottoms. 

“Did you . . . did you just _shush_ me?” She shot him a look—half horror, half amusement—as he kneeled down in front of her.

“I’m trying to eat out my girlfriend. Please, some quiet.”

* * *

He carried her into his bedroom after he had thoroughly debauched her on the granite countertop. Lots of carrying with this one.

After setting her down and yanking his own t-shirt over his head, Ben began peeling off her tunic. Lifting her arms in the air, Rey decided this was the perfect time for a light conversation. She had excellent judgement, really.

“Why,” she began as he tugged at the triangles of her bikini top, “would an analyst have a cover name? That’s—”

“Confidential—” he murmured into her neck just below her ear.

“—Absurd. And what’s with the lifeguarding? I— _ohhh_ —” His lips trailed down her neck as he untied each string until she was naked. “—I can’t imagine that the federal government’s compensation package is that bad, even for an analyst under thirty.” 

“It’s—who said I’m under thirty?” He paused, clearly taken by surprise, but didn’t pull away. 

“Your mum. On that birthday card, over on the refrigerator, the one that says _Happy 28th to a Son Who Sure Is Great . . .”_

His cheeks went a bit pink. He seemed thrown off, but only for a moment. After letting out a little chuckle, he crowded her backward onto the bed and she scooted to make room for him.

“Good observational skills.” That little compliment, even if halfhearted, delighted Rey beyond anything she could describe. But she couldn’t let on. Not while she was still investigating. 

He crawled onto the bed to hover over her. She traced the waist of his shorts, stopping at the light trail of hair in the middle, but didn’t pull them down. _Just a few more questions._ He grunted, presumably in response to her teasing at the elastic of his trunks.

“So, the lifeguarding? Suits? Arabic? Cover name? But you’re a CIA . . . _Analyst_ , you said? What sort of—”

“—If I tell you all my secrets, will you let me take you out on a real date?” He was breathing against her shoulder, waiting to touch her.

“What kind of girlfriend would I be if I refused a date from a nice lifeguard like you?”

“One who breaks hearts.”

Right as her chest swelled, it occurred to Rey that she might break both their hearts, since her flight to London was in six days.

“I’m leaving, you know. For the UK. Going home for three weeks.”

“When?” His eyes were warm, humble.

“Saturday night.”

“Better make this count, then.”

She tore off his swim trunks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to Talking Heads' _Sugar on My Tongue_ and Sarah Vaughan's rendition of _Tenderly_ on the Spotify playlist for this story: [The Lazy River](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5wdV6pORFSZ9V8txlAqdRQ?si=ctZV86JGQGimhldSgTviqQ)
> 
> \--- thanks for reading! come say hi on twitter [@NoeticEdda](https://twitter.com/NoeticEdda)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is he or isn't he? Inquiring minds want to know. Rey's mind, however, is very, very mellow. As usual.
> 
> Mystery, food, sex, fun ahead. Pour a cuppa or a dram or a fizzy drink and find out... _maybe_.......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> INTEL REPORT [classified]: smut ahead  
> 
> 
> I've come off Anonymous =) This has been such a delight to write. Thanks to [ElleRen31](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElleRen31) for an incredibly fun prompt to work with-- a waterpark AU!!-- which I would never have dreamt up on my own. Such are the joys of having a writing community, and I am grateful. And super thanks to [HarpiaHarpyja](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarpiaHarpyja/pseuds/HarpiaHarpyja) and [no_big_deal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/no_big_deal/pseuds/no_big_deal) for lending their keen beta eyes!
> 
> Hope you enjoy the next installment of this story. Epilogue to come - _OR IS IT?????_
> 
> :cue groovy spy music:

“A’right Rey, we wanna hea—no, we _need_ to hear everything, and don’t leave out anything juicy. We’ll know it. Especially Finn, here.” Poe had a lascivious look on his face as he took the plate of extra injera from the waitress. Rey wasn’t certain if Poe was more excited about hearing about her sex life, or the sight of the Ethiopian bread.

She regaled them with the story of how she stayed late at the waterpark to find out Ben’s secrets. And they were astonished when she revealed that he really _was_ at CIA; but the part about being an analyst didn’t seem to register, and it took some of Rey repeating herself for it to sink in with them that it was a desk job, not a James Bond job. 

She didn’t know much about that desk job, of course, but Ben had finally explained that the waterpark gig was a novel idea from his friend and colleague, Kaydel. The two of them were using it to sharpen their observational skills in an intentionally dull environment. They’d quiz each other at the end of each week and see how many details the other could recollect. “Enrichment,” he had called it. 

Rey wondered what kind of supervisor at Langley would allow two analysts to trot off to a local waterpark for this type of _enrichment_ , but it wasn’t completely front of mind. She’d been . . . preoccupied.

Finn and Poe got a pretty exciting retelling of the events, although she left out some of the more intimate details; a spy would never kiss and tell. She wasn’t a spy, of course . . . _thus far_ . . . but her probably-definitely-boyfriend was, and perhaps she had a bit of talent herself. He’d called her observant, after all. 

“So, you’ve been going out for all of five days,” Finn began.

“Haven’t been going out much, to be honest.” Rey blushed. Well, maybe she would kiss and tell. Just a little. “There’s a really good croissant place by his townhouse, though. Been there . . . once.” 

“ _Townhouse_ ,” Finn echoed. “Aww, our baby Rey’s all grown up, dating a big-boy with a house!” 

“He is a rather big . . . boy.” Okay, she would kiss and tell a lot. All three of them laughed, cheeks jolly and pink.

“But now you’re leaving for three weeks,” Poe said, finishing his boyfriend’s earlier train of thought. “So, what are you gonna do?”

Rey twirled her wine glass on the table.

“Oh, you know. Facetime. I’m not worried about it.”

“Riiight, right. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Strengthen that bond—”

“—And I may have invited him to my Auntie Maz’s place.” She grimaced. 

Finn and Poe gave each other that look that only couples who’ve been together for a while have; the one where their faces barely react to the statement hanging in the air, but they know exactly what the other is thinking, and it’s time to proceed with the teasing.

“Taking it slow, I see,” Poe said, his voice going syrupy.

“Gonna just feel it out, play hard to get, huh?” Finn needled.

“He’s very busy with meetings. Said he’d try, but it probably won’t happen. It’s not a big deal, okay? I’m sure we’ll pick up right where we left off.” She was sure of it. Maybe. Yes.

“Well, if you’re happy, we’re happy,” Finn said, picking up the check. Poe nodded in agreement, adding a wink, for flair. They walked out making a Rey sandwich, the boys flanking her on either side and promising they’d pick her up at 7pm for her redeye the following night. They said their goodbyes and Rey went home to finish packing.

What she didn’t tell them was how rash she had felt for inviting Ben to England. She didn’t want them to know that their teasing was well-founded. The last five days had been a whirlwind romance; she was afraid she’d fallen completely head over heels and this might be going overboard, even for her. 

Even after he’d asked her—almost startled her—musing about love at first sight, even after he’d told her a hundred times by now how perfect she was, how lovely he found her, how “crazy” he was for her . . . Rey was no rube. She’d been disappointed before, and had developed an extra layer of insulation against the temptations of a pretty face, a sonorous voice. 

So, she was almost relieved when he said he’d probably be too busy, and she’d told him that he could take her out on a proper date after she returned from the UK. Moreover, she hadn’t even told Ben where her Auntie Maz lived. It was so far out in the country, he’d never be able to find it. Surely not. And it was probably better that way. They’d text, maybe flirt a bit on the iPad, pick things up when she got back, she told herself again, and again . . . 

* * *

“REY, my dear girl!” The tiny woman flung the door open to her cottage and wrapped Rey in a warm embrace. She smelled of lilac perfume and scones. Two large russet-hued hounds came bounding over, wanting in on the action.

“Auntie. So good to be back.” Rey brought her bags into the hallway, still peeling the dogs off of her, while her aunt paid the cabbie. Maz ambled back inside, pulling her purple reading glasses off and squinting at Rey. 

“You look lovely, dear. Quite a rosy glow about you.” Rey had a feeling that the blushing would give her away. She could never get anything past Maz. “New man . . .” She studied Rey a little more closely, holding both her hands before saying, “ _The_ man, perhaps?” 

“Oh, he’s—we’ve only just met. But he _is_ rather . . .”

“Special?” Maz gave Rey a wry smile. “Come. Tell me all about it.” Her voice was authoritative as she led Rey out through the back door, where she had a full spread waiting. 

They caught up in the morning light, surrounded by Maz’s carefully tended cottage garden. She’d made a full English breakfast, and the tea was superb as always. Maz knew how to entertain and how to comfort.

Rey wasn’t as exhausted as she normally would be, and Maz was surprised that she didn’t want to go to bed right after breakfast, but Rey explained that a last-minute upgrade to a lie-flat Business Class seat was the reason she got a few hours’ sleep on the plane.

“But you don’t have elite flyer status, darling girl. How ever did you manage an upgrade?”

“Er, I dunno! Guess it was just my lucky day?” She did know. Or, she thought she knew. _Maybe it was Ben._

“Hmmm.” Maz looked skeptical, but smiled.

It was good to be home. Still, Rey already missed that big vending machine she’d met while carrying a unicorn floatie. She wondered what he was doing right then, but thought better of texting so soon.

* * *

The next morning, she was puttering around the kitchen before dawn. Still jet-lagged, Rey was up before Maz and she expected to be alone for the next couple of days. Later that afternoon, she’d drop Maz off at the train station for her annual bird-watching do with her on-again-off-again paramour, Chewie. It couldn’t be rescheduled since they were part of a seniors’ group, and Rey had known about it when she booked her trip. She was all right being alone in the house for a couple of days. She’d use the time to go through some old things in the attic and she had Aunt Maz’s two rambunctious Corellian hounds to look after.

Crunching on a piece of toast with a generous smear of butter and a thin layer of marmalade, Rey poured hot water from the kettle over the bag of Yorkshire Gold in her teacup. Her phone buzzed.

The text read, _“Miss you”_

_Ben_. Her heart did a flip. She replied, _“Yeah, me too”_

Buzz. _“You up already?”_

She answered, _“Can’t sleep, making a cuppa”_

Twenty minutes and two cups of tea later, she heard the next buzz. _“Check your front door. Might be a delivery waiting.”_

Had he sent her something? How sweet of him, but . . . No, impossible. It was too early for deliveries. He must have got the time difference mixed up. Her fingers tapped out another text. _“Too early, no deliveries until 9. There are rules here. This is England.”_

Buzz. _“Just check. For me. Please.”_

Rey picked up her phone and stared at it for a moment. If he had managed to upgrade her ticket, perhaps he _was_ capable of getting something delivered at 5am. Crafty spy boyfriend, indeed.

_“Ok but if wrong . . . I’ll think of something”_

Buzz. _“ok”_

She padded over toward the entry hallway in her slippers and robe, grateful that the dogs were sleeping up in Maz’s room since they’d normally bolt outside the moment she unlatched the front door. On her way down the hall, she heard the sound of an engine turning off. When she peeked out the side window, she noticed an unfamiliar car parked at the far end of the drive.

Rey turned the knob and swung the door open.

And there stood Ben in the dim pre-dawn light, holding a bouquet the size of her Auntie Maz; bougainvillea, monstera philodendron, birds of paradise . . . 

“Hi.” His smile was soft and his eyes looked hopeful. As if he wasn’t certain he’d be well-received.

Rey nearly fainted from emotion, but like any self-respecting Brit, she kept a stiff upper lip. It would last only seconds, however. “Ben! What—how—”

“You said I could take you on a real date when you came back, but . . . I couldn't wait.”

_Stay calm, stay calm, Rey._

She flung herself into his arms and nearly toppled him over, causing him to drop the bouquet on the threshold and pick her up while she unleashed a barrage of kisses all over his face. 

“Just one thing— How on earth did you find me?”

“I’m a spy, baby.”

* * *

Maz took to Ben very easily. He offered to drive the three of them to the train station in his rental car, and Maz remarked that he was quite a capable driver, now that he was on the “correct” side of the road. There was a brighter-than-usual twinkle in her eye when she bid them goodbye, embarking on her bird-watching trip.

Now, they’d be alone in the house for a couple of days, and that meant only one thing: Rey had someone to walk the dogs with her, of course!

Oh, and it meant they’d have plenty of time to pick up where they left off in D.C.; talking about languages, naturally!

But on top of all that, they had resolved during the car ride home that when they arrived back at the cottage, their first order of business would be to pick a nice restaurant for dinner—their very first date—like the backwards couple they were.

So, the moment the front door shut behind them, Ben had Rey pinned to the wall, kissing her dizzy, pushing and pulling in a tense, breathy dance.

“You came. You actually came and found me.” She had her hand upon his as it was cupped around her face, his thumb stroking her lower lip and his fingers in her hair. His eyes were warm and dark; her pulse was racing.

“I missed you.” Rey’s breath caught at the quiet intensity of his voice. He brushed his lips along her jawline. She felt his nose pull against her cheek as he nipped her earlobe. It sent a shudder straight through her core.

“Af—After one day?” The heat building between her legs was starting to distract her from this line of interrogation. 

“Thirty . . . hours . . . plus travel time.” He huffed out his words, his hips bucking forward slightly as Rey ran her hands down his torso, pulling him tighter against her by the waistband. She could feel his erection on her abdomen, through layers of fabric. Her eyes seemed to shut on their own, in a dreamy haze.

“What about all those m—meetings?” Her fingers found their way to his belt buckle. His head dipped and she felt the heat of his breath puffing along her collarbone.

“Cancelled.” He tugged at the hem of her blouse and began undoing the buttons from the bottom up. She unzipped his trousers, palming at his hard-on over his briefs. “Ahh—” his breath hitched, “w-wait—let me get cleaned up, let me just—”

“Follow my lead,” she said, slipping out from underneath him and flying up the staircase, glancing back down to see him disheveled, a bit disoriented, but then launching after her at light speed.

Rey started shedding clothes on her way to the bathroom; her top, her jeans, her bra; chuckling from the chase. He picked up each piece of clothing after her with a smirk and a _hmmph_. She rounded into the white marble-tiled bathroom and turned on the hot water, but before she could even step into the shower, he wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her back against his torso, and slipped his other hand into her knickers. He teased around at her folds while murmuring in her ear, _so wet for me, angel_ , and she nearly swooned from the hunger in his voice; the movement of his fingers. 

She craned her neck back to kiss him, and he released her, lips still locked with hers, breaking away to pull off his trousers and briefs and cast off his black jumper until there was nothing standing between their naked bodies save for the thin cotton of her panties. The herbal scent of Pears’ soap cut through the heady, musky aroma of Ben, all skin and desire and hot breath.

With a growl, Ben picked her up ( _always_ with the picking up!) and set her down in the shower, backing her into the cool tile that came up to her waist and formed a ledge. He knelt down in front of her as the water fell onto his dark hair and down his thick shoulders, peering up at her as he peeled off her knickers slowly, making her wait, then kissing down her legs as he dragged the fabric to her ankles. When she stepped out of them, he grabbed the back of her knee as she bent it to kick the knickers away, pulling it up to rest over his shoulder. Before she knew what was happening, his mouth was on her; he really was stealthy, the way he moved. 

She threaded her fingers through his wet hair, shower water drenching both of them while he lapped at her, pursing his lips then swirling his tongue around, sliding it down; back up; teasing. He inserted one finger inside her, then two, curling them forward against the ridges of her inner wall. She felt the pressure building, and pleaded _more, fuck, yes._

He groaned against her as he slid a hand from her hip to her ass, squeezing each cheek and trailing around in between with his finger as he flicked his tongue against her clit. Then he sucked and sucked until she began to spasm, head tilting back. He reached up and pearled a nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and it sent her convulsing; _Ben, Ben_ ; coming around his fingers, onto his tongue, while he moaned into her, dragging his lips to the slowing of her cries. 

She realized her knuckles had gone white grasping his hair, so she released her grip and cupped the side of his face as he gazed up at her. Then he stood, rock hard and ready; his broad chest heaving. She reached up to kiss each birthmark on his face, her eyelids heavy, limply hanging her arms around his neck; _oh, oh, I missed you too_. 

He squeezed her hips and grunted as his cock hit her navel—then, for a fraction of a second, looked as if he were deliberating. Rey felt a frisson of excitement rush through her when the look in his eyes went from searching to decisive. He wasted little time in turning her around, gently bending her over the tiled ledge, like Rey’s dream of when he spun her around in the storage room. 

Her tits were pressed against the cool grey-white marble and her arms bowed out across the surface. She felt him hover behind her, bringing his mouth to the back of her ear— _missed you more_ —and bending his knees, pushing inside her from behind.

She went up on her tiptoes instinctively. It was the stuff of her fantasies—only, now they were standing underneath a shower of hot water, steaming up the glass doors. Ben moved in and out slowly at first, savoring, _mmm_ -ing before bottoming out hard with a huff, resting his cheek on her shoulder blade. 

Rey whined at the fullness, at the kisses he pressed to her back. Then, he leaned up to adjust the angle, starting to speed up, and it hit _just right_ ; she felt her core tensing up again, even as the last waves of climax were still receding. 

Ben's hand was on the back of her neck and the other braced the next ledge to keep steady as he hunched down to kiss her again, anywhere his lips could find.

“Rey— _fuck_ , you’re . . . _baby_ , _come_ for me again,” he spoke into her neck while he drove into her faster, harder. She moaned as the heat mounted inside her, a frantic feeling of _too much_ but still _never enough_ , while he cooed endearments and filthy encouragements into her ears. “C—come on my cock— _that’s it—angel_ —” His words were clipped, strained. 

“So good,” she breathed as he bucked into her, bringing her to the brink a second time, “So— _yes_ —Ben, _fuck,_ _yes_ . . .” He slipped a hand around her front and pressed his fingers against her clit; just the light pressure sent her off the edge. She gasped sharply.

He let out a moan that blended into her name, “Rey _—baby, I’m—_ ” She arched back into him, deepening the final few thrusts as she sensed him getting close.

Her mind blanked and she felt her stomach contract, her walls clenching around him when he shot into her with a force and a groan as he started to come undone. 

“ _Yes—b-Ben—oh God—_ ”

Their orgasms hit them together, hot and hard, echoing loudly in the tiled washroom.

She cried out sharply as her whole body went electric. He huffed as he came— _baby, angel—_ shivering, fingers tensed into her skin through his release.

They were frozen there in the steam for a few moments before he slipped out. Rey turned around to find him blinking, looking dazed, pulling her to his chest. Ben held her for a while, kissing her wet hair lightly as she clung to him, cheek pressed against his heaving body. Both of them were still panting, shaking; just quietly hugging before they finally started using any soap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to The Jam's _English Rose_ and other excellent bops on the Spotify playlist for this story: [The Lazy River](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5wdV6pORFSZ9V8txlAqdRQ?si=ctZV86JGQGimhldSgTviqQ)
> 
> My 2 other ongoing fics: 
> 
> [A Deep Sworn Vow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22822522/chapters/54543070) \- canonverse post-TROS fix-it replete with angst, smut, humor, _even plot,_ the WBW and a splash of WB Yeats because I can (14 chapters in)
> 
> [After You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23659306/chapters/56792071) \- a fantasy AU loosely based on the wizard-apprentice dynamic from Naomi Novik's _Uprooted_ with nature, magic, and nature-magic, also velvet (8 chapters in)
> 
> \--- thanks for reading! come say hi on twitter [@NoeticEdda](https://twitter.com/NoeticEdda)


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